


(It's alright) Take it out on me

by brokxnharry



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5x11, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Scott McCall, Hurt Sheriff Stilinski, Hurt Stiles, I love and miss derek, I wanted more from that scene, M/M, POV Stiles, Sad Stiles Stilinski, Stiles and Scott fight, Theo is a dick, don't know what to tag, liam and malia save the day, melissa is an angel, no DEREK, no mention of kira or allison, stiles and scott are best friends unless you think otherwise, theo will always be a dick, wanted more feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 14:39:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7896547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokxnharry/pseuds/brokxnharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is angry and Scott is hurt and maybe Stiles wasn't really all that angry. Maybe it never mattered. </p><p>(( How I wanted the fight scene  between Stiles and Scott in season 5 episode 11 to go. ))</p>
            </blockquote>





	(It's alright) Take it out on me

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first teen wolf story, I watched the show in like a week, and I loved it so much (especially stiles) and this is one of the scenes that frustrated me and got me thinking because I simply wanted MORE. So I decided to write about it :)  
> The title is from the song broad shouldered monsters by mumford and sons.  
> Please leave comments and kudos, and I hope you enjoy this!
> 
> (I don't own any of the characters of course)

Stiles couldn't understand. He was supposed to be fine. Melissa had promised him that he would be just fine. He'd thought that for once, God, just this **_one time_** , things would go his way. But his dad wasn't waking up. He wasn't getting better. He was slipping further and further into this. His body was deteriorating and it scared the living hell out of him, because he looked so much like how his mother did. And Stiles couldn't go through that again. He couldn't be there and watch his dad fade away. He was all he had. He couldn't just leave him like that.

He ran his shaky fingers through his hair, pulling at it slightly. That pain could anchor him, could ground him, could keep him from losing it, or himself. Then he saw him. Scott. Standing by his father's room. He looked concerned, scared, even. And Stiles almost hated him for it. It was just easier. Rage overwhelmed him. This was good. This was better. Rage, he could handle. Not loss. Not pain. Not sadness or panic or any of that. He couldn't deal with those, but he could certainly learn to deal with rage. He ran through the door, holding Scott by the shirt, hitting him against the wall. But it wasn't enough. He could still feel all of it.

He pushed him onto the ground, throwing himself on top of him. He didn't know if he was protecting him, shielding him away, or if he was just reclaiming control, regaining his sense of power. He couldn't beat Theo. He couldn't protect his dad. Or his friends. Or even his own damn self. But at least he could control this; pouring his anger out on Scott, and hoping it would drown them both.

" Where were you? You trusted him. You believed him, right? Huh? So where the hell were you?"

Where was he? Where was Stiles when his dad was being attacked almost to death? When they were taking it all out on him, when he never had anything to do with it? He never had anything to do with the supernatural world. Not with werewolves or dread doctors or chimeras or whatever the hell else. Stiles was the one who'd brought him into this. Who'd forced that world upon him and asked him to **_believe_**. And now his father was dying because of it.

" Stiles," Scott choked out, out of breath, out of strength, as Melissa and the nurses pulled Stiles away from him. Scott stayed there, chest heaving, pants going past him, like he was having some sort of attack. Stiles' eyebrows furrowed. Something was wrong, but he was far too stubborn to allow himself to care.

Melissa helped stand Scott up. He leaned most of his weight on her, as he struggled to breathe. Now wasn't the time for his body to give out on him. He had to be there. He had to fix this. He looked down upon his chest, and blood was coursing through the fiber of his shirt, spreading, turning everything into red.

He looked up, and everything span. He didn’t see the wall as he hit against it, taking his mother along. He didn't see Stiles, who caught him, right before he collapsed onto the ground, whispering an "I got you, buddy", like he'd never been angry at all. Like Scott had never done him any wrong. Like Theo hadn't changed a thing between them.

Everything then went dark and lonely and he could no longer fight against it.

Stiles carried his friend's unmoving body, running into a room that Melissa guided him into, and all he was thinking, all that kept repeating in his mind was; _"I didn't do this to him. This didn't happen because of me. He has to be okay. I'm so sorry."_

" I- I don't know what happened. I didn't do anything, I swear. I- I barely touched him, Melissa, you have to believe me." Stiles said, laying Scott's figure on an empty bed, as Melissa immediately got to work, like it wasn't her son, laying there. Like she'd somehow grown accustomed to stitching him up and waiting for him to ride it out, whatever it was. It broke Stiles' heart a little.

" I know, Stiles. I know. He was already hurt, and he must have not cleaned it up properly. Don't worry. It'll be fine." He'd heard that before. With his father. And It wasn't even close to being fine. God. He couldn't lose his best friend and his father. He didn't think he could even lose one of them.

Melissa tore through Scott's shirt, revealing a hole in his stomach, with his guts almost falling out of it. Stiles tried really hard not to gag, or pass out, or both.

" What the hell happened to him?" Stiles questioned, almost touching his friend, wanting to make it go away somehow, make it better. Do something. Anything. Melissa sighed, shaking her head slightly, but her hands continued their work on him.

" Liam attacked him, almost killing him, and when he didn’t, Theo did."

" Did what?"

" Killed him. He wasn't breathing. His heart had stopped for a few minutes. He was gone, Stiles. Scott was gone."

Everything came to a halt. Stiles' breathing. Melissa's work. The spiraling of the world around its axis. The noises outside. The speeding and slowing and stopping heartbeats. Everything just faded away, as Stiles' eyes fell onto his friend. He tried to imagine a world without him. A life that he would have had to live that didn't include Scott. A version of Stiles that wasn't supported, built, started, and ended, with his friend. And yeah, it didn’t work. Nothing had ever felt more wrong.

" I'm- I'm sorry, Melissa." It felt like the only thing he was capable of feeling was guilt, remorse. And he was more sorry than anything else. For Scott. For his dad. For Donovan. He was just so incredibly sorry, and he didn't know how to make it better. How to take it all back.

" It's okay. He should be fine in a bit. I patched him up, now, we just wait till he wakes up."

Stiles didn’t want to wait. He didn't want to sit with all that was roaming inside him and allow himself time to think. To feel. To try and find a way to cope, and fail miserably. He didn't want to be there when Scott woke up, with tiredness in his eyes, keeping away the disappointment, the _"how could you do this"_ and _"you broke the code as well as my heart"_ , that would always be there, somewhere. Stiles didn't want to be there because he was still so incredibly angry and he wanted to punish Scott somehow. Or himself. Maybe even both. He didn’t know.

" I think, I think I'll just get going." He walked towards the door, feeling renewed panic, anxiety that was almost overpowering, absolutely draining. He felt like he was disappointing his friend again. Leaving him like he'd been left by him.

" Oh, you will?" Melissa said, and although, he couldn't see her, he could hear the disappointment in her voice. It wasn't as brutal as Scott's though. Nothing could ever hurt that much.

" Yeah. My dad, and- Lydia, and just- there's- you know." She didn't know. She didn't know why Stiles was leaving his friend or why he'd been so angry at him earlier. She didn't know what Stiles had done or what it had done to his friendship with Scott. To his soul and everything that made him **_Stiles_**. She didn’t know and he had to get out before it made its way past him somehow.

" Alright, Stiles. I'll be here if your dad needs anything." Stiles nodded, or he didn't, he couldn't tell. Everything was shaking and he couldn't breathe. The walls were closing in on him, his legs boneless, as they carried him through the hospital, away from Scott and Melissa and Lydia and his dad and the haunting memory of his mum and the kid that had lost his mother and still blamed himself for it. He had to get away from it all. Had to. Had to. Had to.

He found himself back in his house, surrounding the doors and windows with mountain ash, wishing it could be that easy, to keep the outside world away, to stop anything from coming in. But Theo soon appeared, walking through the mountain ash like it wasn't even there. Like it didn't matter. And Stiles felt defenseless. And so fucking alone.   

" You killed my best friend." He said, looking down at his bloodied shirt. That was Scott's shirt. God. He was wearing Scott's shirt.

" Lets be honest, Stiles, was he really still your best friend?"

" I can't believe you did that. How could you do that?" Stiles then remembered that he killed someone too. He took a life. Maybe it wasn't so unbelievable after all. Maybe Scott was right, to believe Theo over him. Maybe he wasn't all that better.

" Really, Stiles? You're asking **_me_** , this?"

" Are you going to let my dad die?" His voice wavered, trembled. It wouldn't stop trembling dammit. But he did all he could to cling to his composure. To his façade control.

"If I wanted him to die I wouldn't have told you where you can find him." Theo shrugged, unfazed, like it didn't matter. Like Stiles almost losing his dad and his best friend on the same day didn't matter. Like it didn't matter that Stiles felt like his entire world was falling apart and he was too weak to keep it together. Always too fucking weak.

" Then why is his body shutting down? Why was he poisoned by some kind of toxin that they still can't identify or find?" Theo furrowed his eyebrows, like he didn't know this piece of information. Stiles was angered by that because if Theo didn't know what was happening then no one did. Then there was no way of saving his dad and he was going to die. And Stiles couldn't even think of it, without feeling the bile crawling up his throat, suffocating the little air he managed to take in.

" Listen, Stiles, I'm a realist, a survivor. I have no reason to kill your dad. If only you knew what I know-"

" Yeah? And what do you know?"

" I know what's coming. I know what the dread doctors created. And I know what Parresh is. Lydia does too. And if she's right, then things are going to get a lot worse around here." Theo turned to leave, but Stiles rushed after him, holding onto his arm. He had to hold onto something. Anything. He could feel himself fading, even before he was pushed against the stairs. Darkness closed in on him, like a starless night, that didn't seem to end. He saw a little boy, crying by a grave that was never meant to be there, not yet, with his father behind him, urging him to get up, because they had to leave, because his father didn't think he could stay there any longer without snapping, without losing himself. And he did. For years upon years he drank the grief away but it was always there. And everything he refused to feel, wasn't able to, his son felt. His young mind couldn't comprehend much, but it bared the weight that his father couldn't. And his father never knew what it had done to him. Or maybe he had but once again, was paralyzed by a drink or by what he was desperately trying to escape.

Stiles heard the broken voice of his dad and almost didn't listen. Almost refused to oblige because he never wanted to hear his voice do that again. Break like that. But he woke up with a gasp, pushing himself against the stairs as the world span around him. He felt the headache first. Then the pain in his muscles all around. Then the wetness by his shoulder.

He put a hand over his once injured shoulder and indeed, the wound had reopened after his fall. He was bleeding again. His blood was dissolving into Scott's shirt, that was already covered in Scott's blood. His blood would eventually fade into Scott's and no one would be able to tear them apart. Scott. His dad. Lydia. Oh God. He had to get to the hospital, the sun was already going down. He must have blacked out for a few hours there.

He pushed the defeated weight of his body through the streets, leaning against walls, buildings, people, anything that was willing to support him somehow. His breaths came in pants, vision blacking by the corners, and he was certain, he'd pass out again soon. He just needed to push through, for once, he needed to suck it up, and keep it down, and get to the hospital where people actually needed help. People he cared for and loved and couldn't lose. He just couldn’t.

He found himself in front of his dad's room first. He was still unconscious. Black veins had covered what little skin was showing through the blankets and the wires and the hospital gown that Stiles feared, he'd never really take off. An oxygen mask was put over his mouth and nose, but his chest was still moving a bit too fast for it to be normal. He was still struggling to breathe, and Stiles hated how familiar the feeling was. He hated that his father was going through that and he was just standing there, watching him fade, the way he had with his mother. Fuck. He couldn't do that again. Not his father too. 

He staggered away from his door, not finding it in himself to go in there and actually face the truth behind all of this. If he couldn't see it, couldn't feel it, then maybe it wasn't real. Maybe it wasn't happening, not this brutally, at least. Not like this.

He walked against the walls, through the hallways, looking past rooms of people hurting, dying, losing, and being lost. Until his eyes fell onto Scott, being carried by his mother who was struggling to support his weight. He almost fell, but she caught him. And without really meaning to, without intending to, he was pushing through his door, silently, walking to Scott's side, and holding him upright.

He took Scott's arm, resting it against his shoulder, as he circled his own arms around Scott's waist. They were all quiet, maybe they didn’t know what to say, or maybe they feared that words would somehow break that moment, stir Stiles awake and make him realize what he was doing, where he was, who he was so incredibly close to.

Stiles thought if he opened his mouth, cries would come out before words ever could. And really, what would he have said anyway? He couldn't leave his friend like this. He couldn't watch him fall and hit the ground again because it had torn through him the first time. He needed human contact and he needed Scott and he had absolutely no one and he felt like he was fucking breaking. He was still so unbelievably angry and he didn't know what to do with it all, there had never been a place inside him for such rage. This had never been Stiles. No. He couldn't say any of that. So he held Scott into the bathroom, standing outside, with Melissa, close enough to be able to help if needed, with enough distance as to not intrude.  

Scott opened the door, leaning against the sink, breathing heavily with his eyes squeezed shut. Stiles went in, taking his arm, and carrying his weight for him. He'd always carry whatever Scott didn't. He'd always take it all for him. He'd always care, and that, that angered him too. **_More_**. It also relieved him. He didn't know what the hell he was feeling. He was exhausted.

" Are you hurt? You reek of pain and blood and anxiety." Scott spoke, eyes on Stiles, although, he refused to acknowledge them. Acknowledge Scott. He remained silent.

Melissa wasn't there anymore, Stiles noticed, as he helped Scott back into his bed, reconnecting all the needed wires, engulfing him with blankets to keep him warm, keep him safe and comfortable. He watched the heart monitor, until it finally settled into its normal pace. Stiles breathed out a sigh of relief that he didn't even know why he was holding in.

He didn't know what to do with himself. He didn't know what he wanted to do, where he wanted to go. He didn't know anything. He lifted a hand to rub his tense neck, that stirred the ache in his shoulder, and he winced, breathing through it. He was going to ride this out. He had before. It was going to heal again and everything would be fine. He didn't need help.

" Stiles, please." Scott pleaded, and Stiles felt his hand being taken into another, and he recoiled. Scott couldn't take away his pain. Scott couldn't know.

" I'm fine." Stiles said, eyes still squeezed shut, but mostly to avoid having to look at Scott.

" I smell it on you. I can hear your heartbeat, it's all over the place. Why won't you let me help?" Stiles' rage was resurfacing. It was crawling up his chest, blocking the airway, lumping in his throat. Stiles was certain he'd throw it up or choke on it. He felt like he was about to explode. He was filled to the brim with it. With more than just it.

" I should go."  

He wished Theo had never come back. He wished Scott hadn't believed him and neither had he. He wished Donovan had never left prison, had never threatened his father, or come after him. He wished the super moon hadn't come around, with him and his friend, so incredibly apart. He wished it didn't have to be so fucking hard all the time.

Scott took his arm when he turned to leave. And Stiles almost deflated. Almost allowed himself to feel the hurt instead of the anger. The heartbreak and disappointment and mistrust and- just shit. He almost allowed himself to feel like shit.

" Please, just let me go, Scott." The name was so incredibly heavy on his tongue to be put in that context. He wanted to swallow it back down and keep it there, never to be spoken out loud again.

" I'm sorry, okay? I know I messed up. I know I shouldn't have done that, but- you're in pain. Just let me try to take it away, and then you can leave. You don't have to talk to me again if you don't want to, just-"

" Jesus Christ, Scott, you think I want that? You think I want to be here, with you, and feel like- feel like this?" Stiles finally tilted his head to meet Scott's guilty eyes. Guilty but still ever so kind. He felt his own eyes filling up with tears but he refused to cry now. Not in front of Scott. Not over this.

" Feel like what? Just talk to me. Help me understand."

" I don't want to. God." He roared. He didn't mean to. He really didn't. But he pulled his hand away from Scott's grasp, putting both hands through his hair, and ignoring the stubborn ache in his shoulder, the blood drop that he didn't hear fall against the floor, but Scott did.

" You're bleeding, Stiles."

" I don't want to help you, Scott. I don't- God. I'm so fucking angry. You believed Theo, over me. You didn't even give me a chance to explain. You didn't hear me out. I could see it in your eyes; you'd already made up your mind. You'd already hated me, no longer trusted me. All those years, all we've been through, and you- just like that. It didn't matter. **_I_** didn't matter. And then he made me choose between you and dad and I- I chose him. I knew he'd hurt you and thought you wouldn't need me to save you anymore. You wouldn't want me to. I thought I lost you so I went after dad and now he's dying too. Everyone is fucking dying and you- why did you do that, Scott? Why didn't you just **_listen_**?" He cried then. All the rage went away, exhausting him, and he was still, finally, in so much pain. So much of it. Scott's once wide eyes fell closed, a single tear falling through them, and Stiles wanted to take it all back, wanted to apologize and tell Scott that he didn't mean it. Any of it. He was just so sorry.

" I don't know what to say. I- I know I made a mistake, God, I messed up, Stiles. And I don't know how to fix it."

" I don't know if you can." Stiles sighed, falling into the chair that Melissa stayed in, accidentally hitting his shoulder against its back. He hissed, leaning forward, and turning to inspect the wound. Blood seeped through, and onto his hand. He groaned, shaking his head, and looking to the ground, with his elbows on his thighs, and his hands, attempting to rid themselves from all the blood.

" Did Theo hurt you too? Did he do this?" Scott wiped at his cheeks, willing himself to stop crying. That could wait for later. For now, Stiles was still there, and that had to mean something. Stiles shook his head, too tired to speak.

" Do you think, maybe you can tell me what really happened with Donovan?" Stiles wanted to say no, that it was too little, too late. That Scott should have done that earlier, should have done something, but he didn't. Stiles couldn't deny him this though. He was already leaning back into his bed, falling deeper into his pillow, looking just as tired as Stiles felt.

" The jeep broke down in the middle of the road, I went out, tried to get it to work, then I- I felt something like a bite in my shoulder, it hurt like hell, and I had a wrench in my hand, so I turned and hit whoever it was with it, just to give myself time to run. I didn't even know it was Donovan yet. I ran back to school, into the library, but he found me. He- he kept taunting me, telling me what dad had done to his father, leaving him paralyzed, and I- he wouldn't let up. He wouldn't stop. There was this scaffolding, and I climbed it. He was screaming that he was going to eat my legs. I was trying to hold onto something, anything. I just wanted to get away from him. I released some metal bars, and one of them just- it just went right through him."

It was the first time he'd ever spoken about it out loud and it felt like he was back there. He wanted out. He needed to get away. He needed to undo it all and just not kill a person. Not run away. Not keep quiet about it. Not lose his best friend along with a good chunk of himself.

" It was all so… so quiet. I looked down and he was- choking on his own blood. I went down there, and watched it happen. I didn't know what to do. I didn- I didn't _**know**_ , Scott. I called 911 for someone to come and help him, or get him. I don't know. Then I ran. I just ran."

Scott was quiet. Stiles was quiet. Everything was quiet. So quiet, Stiles still couldn't shake the smell of blood, the sound of Donovan suffocating on his own breath, eyes wide, life leaving him, bit by bit. Stiles flinched when Scott's voice broke through all that.

" Oh my God, Stiles." Scott was crying again.

" The worst thing about it was the relief. I knew he was dead and I thought "good". He was going to kill me and my dad and probably a few more people. He wasn't going to stop, Scott. And I- I killed him. I took a life. I broke the code."

" No, Stiles. You saved lives by taking this one. You were trying to defend yourself. I- I can't use that against you. I shouldn't have."  

" You wouldn't have done it. Wouldn't have killed him."

" You said it yourself, I'm a werewolf. I have powers to defend myself by. You don't, Stiles. I- I don't know what I would have done if I were you. I honestly can't begin to imagine how it must have been for you. I'm- I'm so sorry I wasn't there."

" You didn't even give me the benefit of the doubt, Scott. You turned your back on me and walked away, knowing that I- that I had no one else. And every time I think of you now, I think of that. Your back turned on me. What if it happens again? What if something bad happens and this is how it is for us? What if this is the last thing we get from each other?" Stiles was crying. Or maybe it was Scott. He couldn't tell anymore. There was just so much leaking out of him and he felt drained. Like there was nothing left inside him. Yet, there was too much, he couldn't contain it. He didn't know.

" No, no, don't say that. God. I'm sorry. I promise I'll never do that again. I'll never walk away from you, Stiles. Never again. Please just- just tell me what to do."

Stiles remembered when he was the one begging Scott for something to do, a way to fix it, to make it better, to not lose him. Stiles wasn't angry anymore, he was too tired to be anything, but something snapped inside him, and he had to fight against it. He stood up, unintentionally kicking the chair away. He shouldn't have stayed. He shouldn't have been this close to Scott. He never should have let him in like that again.

" I asked you for the same thing you asshole and you walked away. You left. Left **_me_**." Stiles' arms were flying in the air, before they were held by Scott's, and he was pulled into an embrace that he'd missed terribly. That had always felt more like home than anywhere else.

" I know, I know, I know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Stiles."

" I thought I lost you. I thought you were gone."

They just stayed there, with Stiles in Scott's arms, leaning on top of him, and you'd never know, who was protecting who. He cried into Scott and Scott cried into him. His shoulder hurt like all hell, and then, it didn’t. Not as much anyway. Scott was still too weak to take all his pain away. There was just too much of it.

Stiles fell asleep next to Scott, and when he woke up, Melissa had bandaged his shoulder. She told him that they had to open his dad up, to find a piece of wood, that was poisoning him. Hayden had told Liam something about a newly changed Chimera that hadn't learned to control his powers quite yet. Liam had told Malia and they'd both gone to find him, with traces of blood from Stiles' dad. Liam and Malia had saved his life. He was finally getting better.

Stiles hugged Scott, and they were both laughing, like their hearts weren't still heavied by everything that had happened. Like they hadn't almost lost one another. Stiles then helped Scott out of his bed and to the Sheriff's room. He sat him down as he hugged his barely awake father, who promised him, that he still got him.

Stiles and Scott spent the rest of the day, watching the Sheriff sleep like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Neither of them admitted to his fear of something happening, something going wrong, and them, having to miss it again.

" Theo told me you'd done it with the wrench. Over and over again. He made it sound like- like it was a monstrous thing to do. Like you chose to do it. Why didn't you tell me when it happened?"

" Because I knew this would happen. I knew you would think less of me and I'd lose you. And I couldn't bring myself to do it. Couldn't tell you." Stiles shrugged, feeling tired all over again.

" Can I- can you show me?" Stiles knew what he was talking about without him having to verbalize it. Scott would see the wound and blame himself for it. For not being there, for not helping Stiles, for not hearing him out, for not believing him earlier. He would blame himself because that was what Scott did. Always carrying the weight of the guilt even if it wasn't his own.

" Scott, it doesn't matter, I'm fine." Stiles tried to smile. He really did. But he didn't feel like himself at all and most of the time, he just wanted to cry, and sleep away his existence. Start anew somehow.

" Please, Stiles." Scott's features were twisted in pain, in desperation. Stiles couldn't bring himself to say no. He stood in front of Scott's chair, slowly taking his shirt off, despite the renewed throbbing in his shoulder. He heard a weak gasp, before tender fingers were sliding across his wound, down his back, until they disappeared. Stiles put his shirt back on, sitting down, with his eyes focused on his dad and away from Scott.

Stiles decided he hated quiet. He tilted his head towards Scott, and his heart broke a little more in his chest. Tears were falling against Scott's cheeks, his eyes pinned on where Stiles previously stood, he remained hunched over, like he was unable to keep it together, to soldier through this breakdown. And Scott was never one to lose his composure so easily. Stiles wished he could take that heaviness off his shoulders, for him to stand, right and proud and ever so strong again. 

Stiles moved away from his chair, falling onto his knees, in front of Scott, and putting his palms on his knees. A choking sound went past Scott, as he vigorously shook his head, like Stiles' touch had triggered something inside him, had opened a wound or two. Stiles pulled him into his arms, and he crashed, he fell apart. Stiles just held him, but the sobs never stopped, neither did the shaking.

" Stop, what are you doing? It's all good, dude. It worked out." Stiles tried to keep his voice from cracking. He tried to not cry along with his friend, because seeing him cry, was just something he couldn't handle.

" I'm sorry, Stiles. I'm so sorry."

" Oh my God, it's okay, Scotty. It's okay, buddy, just stop crying, please, or I'll start crying too, and we both know how much of an ugly crier I am." Scott chuckled between his following sobs, allowing Stiles to pull away slightly, as he sniffled, wiping at his eyes to stop more tears from falling.

" Okay, you good? Huh?" Stiles questioned, squeezing Scott's shoulders in clear support. Scott nodded, smiling weakly, despite his tired, red rimmed, eyes.

" Okay, good." He buried Scott's head into his shoulder again, unwilling to detach himself quite yet.

Scott kept his promise, and so did Stiles. Neither of them ever dared turn his back on the other. They never walked away again. They always listened. Always.


End file.
